


All the memories we make will never change

by xipypuck



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Amnesia, Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8249401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xipypuck/pseuds/xipypuck
Summary: He never imagined he would end up there, once again, in a waiting room, the white floor staring back at him and the disinfectant smell filling up his nose. He is, though, his black leather jacket heavy on his shoulders and his mind blurred with thoughts running everywhere as he waits for the doctor to let him in.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this work was born like this: Ragno wrote this one http://archiveofourown.org/works/8199392 and then she said something about writing it the other way around and she made me do it and I was like, yeah, why not? But decided to change things a little.
> 
> Sorry about the mistakes. Enjoy!

It’s been a long time since Ryan set foot in a hospital. He thought he had spent enough hours in one when he was a teenager to make up for the rest of his life, so he never imagined he would end up there, once again, in a waiting room, the white floor staring back at him and the disinfectant smell filling up his nose. He is, though, his black leather jacket heavy on his shoulders and his mind blurred with thoughts running everywhere as he waits for the doctor to let him in.

Now that he looks back to it, it feels like a dream. He was at home making dinner, spoiling Dottie the way all the books to educate dogs tell you not to, when the phone rang and a male, serious voice asked him if he was Ryan Ross. At first he thought it was something work related, because he’s still getting used to answer the phone himself and find out the person on the other side doesn’t really know him. But it wasn’t.

The person called himself doctor Slethan and, for a moment, Ryan’s brain focused on thinking about what kind of surname was that instead of why a doctor was calling him. He stopped moving, though, the moment the words ‘hospital’, ‘accident’ and ‘coma’ were spoken. He can’t remember exactly what the doctor said, he just remembers hearing his name and then everything got black.

Ryan supposes he drove there, entered the emergency room, said his name. But he doesn’t remember anything about that, he just. He was just making dinner. And now his stomach is empty and upside down, his hands are shaking, and the fucking white floor keeps staring back at him like nothing is going on. Like his life didn’t just take a turn and left him unbalanced and hanging on the edge.

The memories don’t help his case, they never do, and suddenly he’s back being a teenager, waiting for the doctor to tell him his dad is fine now, all the alcohol out of his system, just needing to rest and sleep it off. The memories of the nurses and doctors calling him by his first name like he was an usual, because he kind of was, of the uncomfortable armchair digging in his back while he was trying to sleep.

“Mr. Ross?” The voice pulls him out of that trail of thoughts, and Ryan stands up and walks towards the doctor with shaky legs. “He’s stable now. With what we know, we can say there’s no severe brain damage, the CT and brain scan didn’t show any injury of importance and there wasn’t any hemorrhages.”

 “So w-what, what does that mean? How is he? Can I see him?” Ryan asks, the words sounding like a foreign language in his ears. The doctor holds up a hand, sighing.

“That means we’re almost sure he won’t have any permanent damage. He’s suffered a severe brain concussion and we won’t know what the consequences are going to be until he wakes up. However, the absence of visible damage and hemorrhages is a good sign and he’s responsive to some stimulation like pain,” the doctor explains, looking at him carefully while Ryan tries his best to understand what’s going on. “He broke his left leg too and he has wounds and bruises all over his body because of the crash, but it looks worse than it is so you don’t need to be scared, I know it can--”

Ryan is really trying to keep up with the information but he can’t stay there any longer, as his breath speeds up and his heart seems about to burst out his chest.

“I want to see him.”

“Mr. Ross…”

“I said I want to see him, dammit! Let me see him, come on,” he says, starting to walk towards the door. The doctor stops him, though, looking at him carefully.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll let you in, but first… If there’s someone you need to call. Family.”

“I. No. No, I just want to see him.”

“Okay,” the doctor squeezes his shoulder and pats his back. “We have to stay positive, Mr. Ross. And you can talk to him, sometimes it helps. You just can be here for another hour today, though, and then you’ll have to go home.”

 

*

 

Ryan doesn’t think he’s ever felt so helpless before. He’s been through a lot of shit, he’s done things he will always regret and he has learnt to live with the shame and blame for some of them. He’s lost the love of his life and tore him to pieces in the process, but nothing of that felt like this. Like his own life were slipping away as the machine connected to Brendon’s heart tells him he’s still alive even though he doesn’t seem so.

Brendon’s always been like a light, Ryan didn’t use the sun as a metaphor for nothing, there’s something around him that makes you light up as soon as he steps in the room. He’s full of laugh and energy and brightness and just, so _alive_. Now, though, he’s totally still on that bed, covered in bruises and cuts, and Ryan feels like that’s not his Brendon there, he can’t be. Because his Brendon has never been this quiet, this still, this gloomy.

It’s making him feel like he’s empty, and Ryan knows he won’t be good again until Brendon wakes up. Because he can’t lose him now, not after everything that’s happened, he can’t. Doctors say he’s better day by day, that he’s more than stable now, but Ryan won’t believe it until his eyes are open again and he can hear him talk and laugh.

The hours pass and it’s been five days since he got the call, and he’s still the same. Brendon’s body is healing, but Ryan doesn’t think he can hold up much longer if he has to keep seeing him like this, he feels like he’s breaking with every day that passes without him waking up. He looks so weak, so tiny, so… lifeless lying in that bed, covered in dressings and cables.

“I’m going mad, Spencer…” he explains to his friend, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him with the face Ryan has seen so many times before.

“You can go through this, Ryan. You both can. This motherfucker here is not going to give up, and you neither.”

“I just…” Ryan tries not to break right there but, before he knows it, he’s crying. Letting everything out like he hasn’t done since all went down, bringing his hands to his face on the armchair and feeling his tears slide down freely. “Doctors say he’s better, he’s fine. But he’s not. Spence, look at him, he’s. He doesn’t wake up, I beg him every day, I tell him not to leave me, I’m praying as if I believed in any God, I’m promising him to do anything, _anything_ , but please wake up. But he’s not,” Ryan sobs, looking at Brendon on the bed and trembling as Spencer steps closer to him and hugs him. “What am I going to do if…? Spencer, I’m. I can’t. I’m not going to survive if he doesn’t.”

“Shut up, Ry, come on,” Spencer says, drawing back and looking at him right in the eyes. “He’s going to wake up. He’ll open his eyes and you’ll be there to see it and everything’s going to be fine, okay?”

Spencer stays for as long as it takes Ryan to calm down and assure him he’s doing okay, and then he gathers his things and leaves with the promise of checking on him tomorrow. Ryan stays there, just as he does every day, looking at Brendon pale and with the bruises already fading. He gets up and sits on the edge of the bed, grabbing his hand and murmuring sweet nothings, saying his name, telling him he’s done with the draft of his hopefully soon-to-be book, promising him to bring it with him tomorrow so he can read it to him.

He doesn’t know how many hours he spends like that, kissing Brendon’s forehead and caressing his hand, telling him how much he loves him, how he _needs_ him to wake up. Sometimes he thinks this may be a punishment for everything he did wrong, for all the pain he caused. He maybe deserves this suffering, this pain, but he’s sure as hell Brendon doesn’t, and he asks God to wake him up, even if Brendon wants to leave him somehow. He’d pay the price, just to see him awake again.

That night he goes crying to the armchair he calls his bed these days, pushing it close to the bed so he can hold Brendon’s hand, shutting off the world around him and just thinking about his boy lying in that bed beside him, hearing his laugh in his head and feeling his smile against his skin. He doesn’t sleep much.

 

*

 

Doctors say the tests are going okay, some of the wounds are already totally healed and the only visible injury is the leg sling that he’s going to wear for two more weeks at least. Ryan spends his whole days in the room, reading to Brendon or to himself, listening to music on his laptop, wishing Brendon would respond to the beat of the music, that it could bring him back to life.

Ryan knows he’s not dead; he would have gone crazy if he was, but he looks like it. And the color’s back in his face, the stubble starting to grow, but he’s still quiet and still, and it’s freaking Ryan out, because now he looks more like Brendon, but he’s not _moving_ to prove it.

His only walks are to the nearest bathroom and back, the nurses all looking at him with some sort of pity Ryan hates. He’s not rude to them, not really, but he prefers to keep his head down and walk straight to the room because he can’t stand them looking at him like he’s miserable. Brendon’s in that bed still in a coma, how is he supposed to look? The only man he has ever loved, the man he’d give anything for is lying in a bed and he doesn’t know when he’s going to wake up. Could be days or years. Of course he’s fucking miserable, he has the right to be, dammit.

Spencer offers to stay there with Brendon some nights so Ryan can go home and sleep, but he refuses because he can’t go home and leave him here. It’s not his home if Brendon is not there, and he’s not going to sleep anyway. Also, he wants to be there when Brendon wakes up, because he has to. He has to or Ryan is going to break into a million pieces.

It’s been ten days since the car accident and Ryan’s practically living in that room.

“At least go take a shower, take the dogs out, they miss you,” Spencer insists, sighing and shaking his head. “Ryan. You need to put yourself together, man. This place is going to consume you and Brendon wouldn’t want that.”

“I took a shower yesterday,” it’s Ryan’s only answer, sitting with his head resting on Brendon’s lap, holding his hand.

“Yeah, you did it _here_. You need to get some fresh air, rest in your own mattress. Come on, dude. Just a couple of hours, I promise I won’t leave him alone.”

“And what if he wakes up?” Ryan asks, starting to give in because Spencer is right, if he has to look at that stupid white floor one more time he’s gonna end his own life.

“I will tell him you just went for a quick shower. I’ll call you and you’ll be here in less than half an hour.”

Ryan hesitates, because that’s not good. He wants to be there, he wants to be the first thing Brendon sees when he opens his eyes. He’d like Brendon to be the first thing he saw if he were the one lying there. But his back hurts, he’s hungry because hospital food sucks and he misses Dottie and Bogart, too, even though he knows Jeremy and Alli are taking care of them perfectly. He ends up sighing and nodding with his head, saying he’ll be back in an hour and kissing Brendon’s forehead carefully. He doesn’t dare to kiss his lips; he’s terrified of how he’ll feel when Brendon doesn’t kiss back.

He doesn’t go home, though. He can’t. Instead, he goes to Jeremy and Alli’s, sitting on the floor with Dottie and Bogs for almost half an hour and asking them if they mind him eating something and taking a shower. His friends nod and ask him how Brendon is doing, offering to do anything he needs. Ryan thanks them but doesn’t say anything more because the only thing he needs right now is something no one can give him.

When he comes back to the hospital he feels kind of refreshed, somehow, and he’s partly disappointed and partly relieved when he sees Brendon’s still sleeping. And then he feels guilty about being relieved. Spencer stays with him until it’s time for him to go home, and Linda passes by to say hi when she comes to pick him up. Nights at the hospital are kind of starting to make him feel like having anxiety, but Ryan’s not going to leave. He’s not walking out through those doors alone.

He sings to Brendon that night, his voice quivering and off-key, promising him to fix him, to guide him home and he falls asleep with his head on Brendon’s chest, trying to hear his heartbeat over the rest of things, breathing at its pace until tiredness wins him over.

Ryan jerks awake in the middle of the night because he feels Brendon moving, but when he looks at him he has the same face as before, his heartbeat keeps the same rhythm and his limbs are on the same place. Doctors said something about involuntary jerks of the muscles and Ryan guesses that’s all it was. Anyway, he just stays up for the rest of the night, just in case.

*

It’s been twelve days and nine hours when Brendon opens his eyes.

Ryan’s sitting on the armchair with his hand on the bed, reading quietly and trying not to fall asleep even though his whole body is exhausted. His muscles feel weak and he can barely go to the cafeteria without feeling tired. The main character is starting to get on his nerves when he hears the sheets rubbing together, a soft sound echoing in the room

The book is on the floor and he’s on his feet so fast he feels dizzy for a moment, and he’s right there beside Brendon’s bed milliseconds after he’s heard him. He looks at him with his heart hammering on his chest and his eyes starting to fill up with tears, and it’s the longest second of his life until he sees Brendon’s eyebrows furrow, his arms moving slightly.

Relief washes over Ryan’s entire body, making him tremble and cry and laugh at the same time as he presses the button to call the doctors. He feels like the world just started moving again after twelve days staying still, his chest tightening and his heart racing.

“Hey. Hey, babe,” he barely murmurs, wiping his face clean and smiling even more when Brendon’s eyelids stutter and open suddenly, trying to focus. “Oh my god, you’re awake. You’re awake, thanks God, you’re awake.”

Brendon’s frown intensifies for a second, and Ryan is ready to start explaining, but then the doctors come into the room and grab him to pull him away, saying they need to check Brendon out, asking him to wait out of the room while they do and not letting him much of an option. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s in the corridor and the room’s door closes, and the only thing he can do is take his phone out and call Spencer.

“He’s awake, Spence,” he explains with tears running down his face and a smile on his voice. “My boy is awake.”

 

Doctors say the first signs don’t show many consequences, but they have to do more tests. Brendon might have problems with planning things or getting them, even he can have problems understanding things as fast as he did before. They say there’s maybe an attention problem, even though they’ll have to run some tests for it to be clear, and all of that can change during the next days. He knows who he is and where he is, but he doesn’t remember the accident, and doctors say that’s normal and they’ll have to see how his memory improves these days. They ask him to tell them whatever weird thing he sees and warn him about the possibility of Brendon feeling dizzy or having headaches, so they’re going to put some meds for that.

The last thing they tell him is that waking up of a coma can be hard sometimes, so he needs to be careful and have patience with Brendon now, who can be irritable and even violent somehow. Ryan doubts that, Brendon being violent is like the sun rising at night, but he just nods and says thank you and waits for them to go already so he can enter the room and see Brendon.

He’s looking at the window when Ryan enters in the room and closes the door behind him, turning his head almost immediately. Ryan can see Brendon’s body tensing on the bed, all his muscles jerking a little, and he tries to move carefully, smiling soft and moving closer, but letting some space between him and the bed. Be careful, doctors said, and Ryan tries to even though he’s dying to cross the room and hug him and kiss him.

“Hey,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat and smiling soft. “How are you feeling?”

“Um. W-what are you doing here?” Brendon asks suddenly, and Ryan freezes on the spot, looking at him without blinking.

“Y-you were in a car accident, you were in a coma and, and you just woke up,” Ryan explains, even if he knows doctors already said that, maybe Brendon has forgotten already, or maybe he wants to make sure.

“I know that. But that doesn’t explain why are _you_ here,” Brendon snaps, and his tone makes something twist in Ryan’s stomach, a cold sweat running down his back.

“I. I just,” Ryan doesn’t know what to say, he feels paralyzed, feels stuck in the spot, lost. “They called me, I, I,” he tries, feeling stupid because he doesn’t understand.

“I don’t need your pity, Ryan. I’m awake and I’m fine, you can go already and disappear again. You’re good at it,” he says, and Ryan feels like dying inside. His limbs seem bigger than normal and he feels nauseous, empty.

“But…” he tries to talk, but suddenly Brendon frowns hard, tightening his jaw, and looks at him. He hasn’t looked at him like that in years, and Ryan is so lost.

“Where is Sarah?” he asks, his voice hard and bitter and so, so sharp. “Why isn’t she here? What did you do, Ryan? Where is my wife?”

Those words feel like a punch right in his stomach, making him lose all the color in his face, his throat closing and his hands trembling. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, that’s not. It’s. The nausea comes back harder this time, and Ryan doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, why Brendon is talking like that to him, why he’s asking about Sarah. Suddenly he feels like he can’t breathe, like his lungs are growing smaller and smaller until the air can’t go through them. He tries to get some air but he can’t and his vision is blurred and everything is disappearing at the edges. He needs to get out of here.

Just when he gets out of the room and steps into the corridor, he hears rushed steps and a voice calling his name. Spencer is smiling when he looks up, but his face changes when he sees Ryan’s, a frown appearing on his features.

“Hey, what—what’s wrong? What’s going on?” he asks, and Ryan can’t see him properly, like his eyes weren’t functioning as they should.

“I-I don’t know. He… he doesn’t want me here. He doesn’t want me here, Spence,” he babbles, and Spencer grabs his arms and tries to calm him down. Ryan looks at him and tries to breath as he says, nodding and swallowing. “He. He asked about Sarah,” he says, his voice breaking, and Spencer seems to freeze on the spot before he talks again.

“Look. I’m. I’m gonna get in there and talk to him, okay? You wait here. Everything’s going to be fine, Ry. Okay? Trust me,” his friend says, and he waits Ryan’s nod before he lets go of him and walks into the room, closing the door and leaving him alone in the corridor.

It takes what it feels like years, and in the meantime Ryan closes his eyes and tries to breathe normally. He leans against the wall and lets himself slide down until he’s crouching down, his face on his hands. He doesn’t know what’s happening, Brendon looked so mad at him, so furious, and Ryan can’t understand why, and then he asked about Sarah and he just. He asked about Sarah. Ryan has been sleeping here for twelve days, eating and even showering in this fucking hospital, and Brendon asked about _Sarah_. He’s so confused he can’t even think properly.

When Spencer comes out again Ryan stands up quickly, waiting, and his friend looks at him with soft eyes and a nervous gesture. Ryan’s heart feels like it’s going to explode, and finally Spencer talks and tells him the news. Brendon doesn’t remember the last three years. The last thing his mind can recall is his marriage with Sarah and not talking to Ryan at all. Ryan stops listening then, his whole body feeling numb and cold, and he can move just when Spencer gets closer to him and squeeze his shoulder.

“Hey. Is going to be alright, okay? I think he’s ready for you to come in, but… be careful, okay? Just. I told him you guys are together, but I didn’t mention the,” he says, pointing with his face to Ryan’s left hand. “Just, easy with info, man. I’m gonna go find the doctor; you talk to him, huh?”

Ryan can just nod as the information sinks in, wiping his face clean and breathing for a few seconds. He can do this. He can. He just needs to be strong and be there for Brendon, being his memory, being whatever he needs him to be. He asked God to wake him up, and he was willing to do anything in exchange, so if this is how it’s going to be, he’ll take it. He’s not going to run away.

This time Brendon is looking at his own hands when he gets in the room, and the look on his face is slightly different than before when he looks at him. Ryan can see the confusion all over his features, the frustration, and the shock. And he breathes in and out before taking a few steps closer, not enough for him to touch the bed, but staying near him. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just smiles, feeling nervous and kind of anxious.

He can’t remember the last time it was awkward between them, living together and sharing a life, going back to what they were before everything made almost impossible for them to be awkward around each other. They knew each other like they knew themselves, knew every gesture, every smile and every frown. They fought, a lot, but they knew how to forgive each other, too, they learnt that over the years. And now Brendon can’t remember any of it.

“So…” he starts, and Ryan can see Brendon feels a little out of place right now, because his cheeks are pink like they are when he feels ashamed, but at the same time his stare is a little lost and unsure. “So we are, like…”

“Yeah. Yes, we are, um, together,” Ryan says, clearing his throat and wrinkling his shirt in his fists. “Um. Can I… Do you mind if I…?” he asks, pointing to the armchair beside the bed.

“Oh. No, of course. You can sit,” Brendon says, and Ryan sighs a little, feeling still a bit tense but nodding as he goes to sit. At least he doesn’t mind him being close. “How… How long? Since when do we…” he asks, looking at him.

“Almost three years,” Ryan answers, staring close at Brendon’s expression, seeing his eyes go a little big and his teeth trapping his bottom lip. “Spencer told me you don’t… It’s okay. I. It’s fine, you’re gonna be fine.”

“Okay. Woah, this…” Brendon laughs a little, and Ryan heart skips a beat, but it doesn’t sound right, it doesn’t sound happy or relieved. “I just. I can’t remember anything. It’s like I went to sleep back then and woke up here three years after, and it’s…”

“Yeah, I know…” Ryan says, looking down at his lap so he can concentrate in anything but the deception and sadness in his chest.

“I… I know you can, like, tell me everything and I have some questions but,” he starts, and Ryan stops breathing for a moment before he talks again. “I’d like to talk to her first, if you don’t mind. I’d like to call Sarah.”

Ryan feels himself go pale, but he just breathes and nods. This is what Brendon needs, this is what he wants. Ryan has to be patient, to give him time, so he opens the nightstand drawer and takes out Brendon’s phone, handing it to him and smiling soft. He tries not to look at Brendon’s pitiful stare, but he fails and he feels nauseous again.

“I’ll leave you to it, just. Be back in a while,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t wait to Brendon’s answer before walking out of the room.

 

*

 

Things are weird the following days. Ryan still stays there every day and every night, and Brendon asks him questions sometimes, but with this cautious, reserved looks, so out of place in his face. He listens and answers as much as he can, trying not to give him too much information at once and watching closely every one of Brendon’s reactions, searching for some kind of memory on his eyes. He doesn’t find anything, but Brendon tries his best.

Doctors say they don’t know if he’ll be able to remember or not, and when, and it’s possible he can find problems to learn new things. They just keep running tests and medicating Brendon for the pain and headaches. He sleeps a lot, too, and his attention is not very good. He gets distracted very easily and can’t concentrate even if he tries hard enough, and doctors said it was a common consequence of brain concussion and it can’t be reversed. He also has nightmares and Brendon always suffered anxiety but now it’s worse, all consequences of the hit on his head, and doctors said he can even have PTSD.

Ryan is doing everything he can to help him, because Brendon gets frustrated easily. His attention wasn’t the best before the accident but now he can’t even keep a conversation as long as before, and he tries, and he fails, and then he gets mad at himself. Ryan is with him through all that, trying to make things easier. Brendon starts to ask questions, then, wanting to know how they got in touch again, what happened.

He tells him bit by bit, how they met again at the end of the summer of 2013, when Ryan was a mess and Brendon was so furious he thought he was gonna punch him in the face. It was casual, that first encounter, and then they just started talking. Ryan would send a text some time, and Brendon would refuse to answer at first but then would give in. Ryan apologized one time, and Brendon couldn’t stay mad at him anymore.

He tells him how they got into a some kind of routine, talking almost every day through the phone, laughing together and meeting up to go somewhere, play videogames or have dinner. Ryan was still a mess, but he felt somehow renewed anytime he saw him. He confesses how day by day they couldn’t stay away from much time, spending even whole weekends together, growing closer and closer as the time passed by.

They kissed the first time on Ryan’s roof, trying to create lyrics just saying a word each one at a time. It felt like returning home after a long drive, and they shared their first night sleeping together after years, touching and kissing and whispering sweet nothings to each other. The morning after, Ryan promised him to get clean, and he did. He asked Brendon to leave Sarah three weeks later, and Brendon did.

Ryan tries not to tell this to Brendon, but he asks for it, he wants to know, he says. Brendon looks at him through the whole story, some days with his eyes full of tears and others crying freely. Sometimes Ryan cries with him too as he promises it’s okay, he’s going to tell him everything. He spends almost a whole week to tell him all of this, mostly because Brendon sleeps a lot and his attention problems are not helping.

They are growing closer, too, Ryan can feel it and he’s glad. Brendon doesn’t look at him with that cautious and thrown off look anymore, even if he doesn’t look at him like he used to either. They talk more, and even laugh sharing some memories of the good old days. He apologizes a lot, too, and Ryan asks him not to do it, he wouldn’t change it if it meant he was going to be in that coma for years. Brendon grabs his hand and squeezes, and Ryan can feel his heart speeding up because it’s the first touch he doesn’t initiates himself, smiling softly at him and sighing.

“This is my punishment, you know?” Ryan murmurs one night, the room quiet and dark, with his chin resting on his hands over the edge of the bed. “I asked God to wake you up, in exchange of anything He’d want. And he gave me this. He woke you up but with this condition, and this is what I get. He’s punishing me for all the wrong I’ve done,” he feels really stupid talking about God like this when he doesn’t believe in him, and he just looks up when Brendon says his name, seeing his eyes bright with the streets lights.

“That’s stupid,” is all he says, and Ryan stares at him for a few seconds before bursting out laughing, looking at Brendon and seeing him laugh too.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is,” he admits, and both their laughs fade off in the dark. Ryan looks at him and finds Brendon staring back, both in silence in the quiet room.

“I wish I could remember,” Brendon whispers, and even in the dim light Ryan can see his eyes bright and sad. “I wish I could have all those memories about us.”

“You will,” Ryan says, reaching out with his hand to touch Brendon’s on the bed. “And if you don’t, I’ll tell you all about them,” he thinks about saying they’ll create new ones, too, but something in Brendon’s eyes stops him, because he looks so sad right now, a small tear rolling down his face and wetting the sheets. “It’s going to be okay, I promise you,” he whispers, and Brendon closes his eyes and nods, sighing.

“Okay,” he says, and he stays like that for so long Ryan thinks he’s fallen asleep. But then he talks again. “Would you…? Can you come up here? With me.”

Ryan hesitates, because he still doesn’t know what’s fine or where is the line between them right now. It’s true that Brendon’s not so off or distant with him as he was at first, but he still is getting use to this whole being together thing. He has asked, though, and Ryan can’t say no to that.

He stands up and get on the bed over the sheets, beside him, and he throws a tentative arm over Brendon’s waist, spooning him from behind. Brendon seems to relax a little, and Ryan takes that as a sign to get a little closer, burying his nose in his hair. They stay like that for a while, in silence, and Ryan closes his eyes and lets himself believe that this is home, nothing has happened, everything is good, and Brendon’s lying beside him pressed against his chest like he does every night.

Doctors say Brendon’s doing very well, his leg healing fast and the headaches fading off bit by bit, even though they may never disappear completely, just be less frequent. He doesn’t take pills for the dizziness anymore, and he feels a little sick sometimes, but they are just a few times. His attention hasn’t improved though, and he’s having more anxiety as the days go by. They wanted to medicate him too about that, but Brendon refused and said he could deal with it.

Ryan has stopped telling him things about them, because they make Brendon feel sad and frustrated and that just make it easier for the anxiety to appear. He wants to remember so bad, Ryan knows, but that effort is making him feel worse. He can already get off the bed, and Ryan has carried him out in a wheelchair, walking down the corridor and even going out to get fresh air. Spencer is there almost every day, with Linda sometimes, and some friends of Ryan have visited to say hi, too, see how he’s doing. Ryan asked them not to do it again for a while though, because Brendon doesn’t remember being friend of theirs and he had to deal with a panic attack the third time they came to see him.

It has to be hard, Ryan thinks, looking at Brendon sleeping peacefully on the bed. Waking up one day, having people telling you that all you think and believe is wrong, that your life is not like that anymore, when you can’t recall any change. Ryan feels sad too, not just because Brendon doesn’t remember anything about them, but because he sees everyday how that makes Brendon feel.

He caresses the skin of his arm carefully, because he takes advantage of these moments to touch him freely, feeling the warm skin under his fingertips, enjoying the soft, familiar feeling as he does. Ryan looks back to the book on his right hand, starting the page all over again because he can’t concentrate enough to know what he’s reading, his thoughts going back to Brendon over and over again. He traces the skin softly, his eyes fixed on the black letters as he gets to it and lets the movement make him focus. He doesn’t know how much time he spends like this, but he’s pulled out of his trance by the sudden sound of Brendon’s voice.

“Are we married?” he asks softly, and Ryan turns his head abruptly, just to find Brendon staring down at the ring on his finger, touching it lightly. Ryan feels his throat go dry and swallows, closing the book on his lap. And he knows they shouldn’t talk about this until Brendon feels better, but the look on his face is almost painful, and he can’t let him hanging.

“Yes,” Ryan answers, almost a whisper. He sees Brendon taking a deep, shaky breath, his lips trembling lightly. “We’ve been married for a year and a few months,” he explains, his voice soft and slow. Brendon nods and whips his face where a tear was sliding down his cheek, still looking at Ryan’s ring. He takes his other hand on this pocket, then, taking out Brendon’s own ring, the one the doctors took off when he came. “Here, this is…” he starts, handing it to Brendon cautious and swallowing. “That one is yours, if. If you want to wear it,” Ryan hands trembles a little as he lets it on Brendon’s palm. “If you don’t, it’s okay, I can keep it until you…”

“No,” Brendon says, watching the ring closely with shaky hands. “It’s okay, I. I want to,” he moves to put it on his finger but then stops abruptly, looking at Ryan. “Could you…?”

Ryan nods and moves to put the ring on his finger, laughing a little because he feels almost as nervous as he was the day he did it on their wedding. He looks at Brendon, then, staring back at him with a soft smile but sad eyes.

“Did you ask? Was it… was it you?” he asks, lowering his voice as if it was a secret. Ryan dares to tangle their fingers together, squeezing a little and nodding as he looks at their hands.

Brendon lets out a sudden sob, and Ryan sees his efforts to contain the tears before he breaks right there, crying openly and breathing hard, his whole body trembling with it, his face getting wet with every tear rolling down his cheek.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Ryan says, moving so he can sit on the bed beside him, throwing an arm over his shoulders and pulling him in for a hug. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to do this yet, but he can’t stay there and see Brendon cry over this, he feels like someone is ripping his heart apart.

“No, it’s not. It’s not, Ry, I want to remember it. I want to close my eyes and see you doing it, feel what you made me feel that day again and…” he stops talking because the sobs don’t let him keep talking, his breath coming out ragged and harsh.

“I know. I know, sweetie,” Ryan answers, and he wonders for a few moments why his voice sounds so broken, until he notices he’s crying too, just the tears sliding down his face, his breath somehow controlled. Brendon buries his face on Ryan’s chest as he cries, and Ryan feels so sad seeing him like this, so frustrated because he can’t make it better.

“Can you tell me about it? Tell me about it, please. Tell me, Ryan, tell me,” he pleads, and Ryan can feel his breathing still uneven, his hands trembling and chest rising and falling fast.

“Bren… I don’t think it is a good idea right now.”

“No, come on, tell me, Ryan, I need to know. I need to…”

“Shh, listen, baby, just,” Ryan interrupts him, moving so he can lean his forehead against Brendon’s, swallowing nervously because this is the closest he’s been to him since they’ve been here. “I’ll tell you, okay? But not today. Your anxiety is bad these days, and we can’t do anything to provoke it, right? Let’s. Let’s just rest today, okay? And I promise to tell you about it when you feel better,” he says, trying to make Brendon understand. “Please, babe, just rest, okay? You need to feel better.”

Brendon stays quiet and Ryan’s sure he’s going to tell him to fuck off anytime soon but, instead of that, he just feels him nod, sighing so close Ryan can feel it against his lips, making him tremble with want. He leans in and breathes, but in the end he just kisses his cheek, making Brendon lay down in bed and snuggling with him a little, telling him to breathe, putting his hand over his chest and trying to calm him down. In the end he gets it, and Brendon falls asleep almost instantly, with his nose pressed against Ryan’s neck and their fingers still entangled. Ryan looks at him and swallows, his whole body feeling exhausted and thinking about how many days are they going to end up crying together because of this.

*

 

Brendon doesn’t mention it again and, a few days later, Ryan brings their wedding album to the hospital, carrying it under his arm as he walks into the room one more time, freshly showered and sneaking in some pancakes for Brendon because he hates hospital food and Ryan wants to surprise him. Pete and Spencer are in the room when he enters, both laughing loudly with Brendon, who’s sitting in the armchair with his leg resting on a stool.

“Hey!” he says when he sees him, and Ryan is starting to see the light in his eyes every time he  looks at him, that complicity hiding there somewhere.

“Hi again,” Ryan answers smiling at him and nodding at Spencer and Pete. They don’t get along very well, never did since the split, but Ryan guesses he can’t say anything when he’s visiting Brendon at the hospital, so he just acknowledges his presence and walks to the bed, leaving the album and the pancakes there and sitting as he checks his phone and they keep talking about whatever they were laughing at before.

They don’t take long, though, and soon both of them say their goodbyes and walk out of the room, leaving them alone again as they were before Ryan went home to take a shower and change clothes.

“How was that shower?” Brendon asks, smiling big. He’s in a good mood today, no headaches and no dizziness, and no panic attacks so far. “I wish I could take one at home, man. I bet it’s so, so much better than here.”

Ryan laughs and nods, because yeah, anything is better than having someone showering you as you sit on a stool with your leg into a plastic bag. He’s been helping him doing it for a while now, at first Brendon didn’t want him to do it, but he still can remember the first time he gave in, how Brendon looked down the whole time, all blushed and nervous. Ryan was nervous, too, because they had shared a lot of baths at home, they had showered together and see each other naked a million times, hell, Brendon spent most time naked at home. But this, helping him shower when he didn’t even remember they were married, it was a whole other thing.

“You’ll do it soon. The doctors say you’re doing perfectly. You’ll be out of here and back at home before you know it, you’ll see,” Ryan says, smiling. “Dottie is going to go nuts when she sees you again, she and Bogart miss you like crazy,” he adds and he’s a bit confused when he sees Brendon’s face, slightly frowning.

“Um. Dottie?” he asks suddenly, and Ryan’s eyes grow big when he realizes that, yeah, of course, Brendon doesn’t remember their dog. Well, shit.

“Oh. She’s. She’s our dog,” he says, and Brendon’s eyes grow huge, surprised and delighted at the same time, a small smile appearing on his face even though he seems still a little confused about it all.

“We. We have a dog? Like, besides Bogs,” he asks, and Ryan smiles and nods, taking out his phone and searching through the gallery for pictures.

“Yeah. Her name’s Dorothy, but we mostly call her Dottie or Dot,” he says as he hands him the phone, a picture of Dottie and him on the screen. “Well, she is mine, in fact. You gave her to me when I got clean but, yeah, since you moved in she became ours. She _loves_ you and Bogart, too. They’re pretty close friends,” he explains, seeing Brendon’s face shinning with a huge smile as he sees the picture of himself with the dog trying to lick his face. Ryan feels a little bad about not saying anything about it before when he sees Brendon’s eyes shine, and he clears his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I didn’t… I mean, it never came to my mind and I just.”

“It’s okay,” Brendon interrupts, smiling at him softly and watching the phone closely for a few seconds, his features changing slightly, before handing it to Ryan. He looks at the screen to get out of the gallery but he sees Brendon already did, and probably he was staring at his background, a picture of both of them all over each other smiling at the camera. The air feels awkward suddenly, and they stay silent for a few minutes before Brendon clears his throat. “So, I saw you brought me something. What is it?”

“Oh,” Ryan is glad about the change of subject and he takes the pancakes, opening the still warm lunch box. “Yeah. I made you pancakes, but you can’t tell anyone because I’m not supposed to bring you food here,” he laughs, and Brendon’s face lights up.

“Ohhhh, pancakes! Oh my god, Ry, you’re my hero right now,” he says, making grabbing hands at him. “Gimme, gimme pancakes.”

Ryan laughs and looks at him fondly, because he’s missed that cute, almost childish part of Brendon. The hospital irritates him and he’s been a little out of himself with all the memory lose and that. He seems more like himself today, bit by bit, and Ryan feels relieved and happy about it. He gives him the lunch box and a fork, watching him as he starts eating the pancakes with chocolate syrup.

“I…,” he says a few minutes later, when Brendon’s almost done and he’s told him a million times they’re delicious. “I brought you something else,” he grabs the album and shows it to Brendon, swallowing and looking down at it. “I thought you might want to see it, and, well, I can tell you the story but. Yeah. I thought you’d like to see it, too.” Ryan looks up at Brendon, who’s waiting for him to tell something more. “It’s our wedding photo album.”

“Oh,” Brendon says, and he seems a little taken aback, staying still and looking at the album like he were seeing an alien instrument. Ryan watches him and waits, scanning his features and expecting a reaction of some sort. He wasn’t expecting this, though, he just saw the album and thought it was a good idea to show him pictures of that day, but the seconds go by and Brendon’s still looking at it like he’s not even sure about touching it.

“I. If you don’t want to see it, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I can…”

“No. No, yes, I want to. I, I do,” Brendon interrupts suddenly, clearing his throat and reaching out to leave the launch box on the nightstand. He licks his lips and looks at Ryan for a second, breathing deep. “I. I wasn’t expecting to… But, yeah, of course I want,” he repeats, smiling at him honestly, making Ryan sigh a little and nod.

He has a moment of not knowing if giving the album to him or starting opening it and show Brendon pic by pic. But, in the end, Brendon tells him to sit on the armchair with him, moving so Ryan can fit behind him with his legs open and leaning back against his chest as Ryan rests the album on his lap. He feels nervous about the position, it feels so intimate, but Brendon turns his head to look at him and smiles.

“You okay? I can feel your heartbeat kind of fast,” he says, and Ryan laughs nervously, trying to babble some excuse and failing, making Brendon grab his hand and squeeze. “Hey. It’s fine. We’re fine, okay? This is good. It’s… nice. Relax,” he says, and Ryan takes a deep breath and nods, apologizing and setting his hands carefully on Brendon’s waist.

He feels Brendon lose his breath when he opens the album and sees the first picture. He takes a look at the pictures in silence, but Ryan can hear his breath speeding up as he passes the pages, the first ones consisting in them getting dressed separately. Then he gets to the ceremony ones, and Ryan hears how he lets out a shaky breath, laughing a little and touching a picture softly with the tip of his fingers.

“When was it? The date, when…?” he asks, and his voice sounds rough and a little broken.

“October 31st,” he answers, laughing when Brendon does too and says ‘Halloween!’. “We got so much shit for it, you don’t even know,” he says, smiling and resting his chin on Brendon’s shoulder. He realizes what he’s done just seconds after doing it, but Brendon doesn’t seem to mind, so he decides to stay right there. “But it was worth it.”

They keep seeing pictures, Brendon asking questions here and there, wiping his face clean because he’s crying softly as they watch the album. Ryan holds him closer when he sees him and lets him cry, because he can’t even imagine how is it to see pictures of your own wedding and don’t remember any of it. He asks him if he wants to stop, though, but Brendon shakes his head no and insists to keep going, asking Ryan to tell him about that day, how nervous they were, how many people was there, how it was.

Ryan does, tells him everything he wants to know, remembering with a smile on his face, pointing to some of the pictures and sharing stories and funny things with Brendon about that day. Brendon looks at him with teary eyes but a smile on all the time, watching closely every picture, making Ryan blush when he tells him he was fucking beautiful that day.

“No more than you,” he answers, pointing to a picture where Brendon’s walking down the aisle with a huge smile on his face. “I swear to god, when I saw you there, walking towards me, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I just couldn’t look away,” he explains with his eyes fixed on the picture. Brendon turns his head slowly and just then Ryan looks at him, their faces barely inches apart, their breath steady and heavy.

Ryan can’t help looking down at his lips once, but then he flushes hard and swallows, looking away and trying not to feel bad about it. It’s just he hasn’t been this close to Brendon in weeks, and he needs it so bad it hurts, but he wants Brendon to be okay with it, and he’s not sure about it yet. Brendon smiles to him and leans his forehead against his cheek, sighing with his eyelids wet.

They keep seeing the album after a few minutes of silence, and Brendon starts crying again when he sees the picture of them kissing covered in rose petals, both smiling in the kiss. He cries and laughs at the same time, his body trembling with it, and Ryan swallows and tries to control his own emotions as he remembers the day and realizes Brendon can’t. He’s just looking at that pictures and seeing it for the first time, being a spectator of his own wedding day.

“We slow danced before dinner,” Ryan explains, seeing the picture of both of them on the dance floor, Brendon whispering a shaky ‘oh my god’ and bringing one hand to his face. “I was so shy I kept hiding my face on your neck, and you laughed all the time and told him how good I looked all flushed, how they all were looking at me just because how beautiful I was… That only made me blush even more,” he laughs, and Brendon does too, two fat tears rolling down his face and his chest rising and falling fast.

“I was happy,” he sobs, looking at the pictures. “I can see it in every one of these, I was so happy, Ry… And,” he stops to breathe, swallowing and rubbing his face. “And I know because I always dreamt about this, too. About that day, with you, I…” Brendon makes a soft sound and starts to cry hard again, and Ryan feels his chest tight with it, hugging him from behind and whispering apologies over and over again, making Brendon shake his head no. “It’s not your fault. It’s… Fuck, it’s this stupid memory. I wish I could remember. I want to remember so bad, Ryan,” he grabs Ryan’s arms around him, pushing back against his chest and closing his eyes as he tries to calm his sobs. “God, but I can’t and it makes me feel… But. I love you,” Brendon says suddenly, turning his head to look at him. Ryan feels his stomach turn around and his heart speeding up like crazy, looking at him with huge eyes. “I love you. Maybe I don’t remember all of this but I know I do. Because that never changed, even when we weren’t talking, that… I have always loved you and I will love you for the rest of my life. And if I, if I never remember again then fuck it, fuck God and fuck karma or whatever, because it doesn’t matter. My brain may not remember, but my heart does, and I can’t live any life without loving you, Ryan Ross.”

Ryan feels himself lose a weight he didn’t know he was carrying, closing his eyes and biting his trembling bottom lip as he lets out a soft whine, realizing he’s crying too just when he feels the salty taste on his lips. He rests his forehead on Brendon’s shoulder and cries with all his body, his shoulders shaking with it and his breath going out in long and loud gasps. Brendon leans against him and raises his hand to touch his face, murmuring ‘I love you, baby’ over and over again, saying his name until Ryan looks up at him again, watching his face through blurry eyes.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs softly, “So much, Bren.”

Brendon nods and smiles still with his face wet, and Ryan feels himself fall as he sees Brendon leaning in and closing the distance between then, kissing him with his soft, full lips, trapping his between them and pulling on them, opening his mouth against Ryan’s. He feels like he lost his breathe for a moment, all his body answering to the kiss, vibrating, his skin standing up on end. Ryan has to remember himself how to breathe before he kisses back, slow and languid but intense, touching him softly with his tongue, savoring his mouth and feeling Brendon tremble when he sighs into his mouth.

They forget the album for a while, just sitting on that armchair, leaning back and kissing for what feels like hours, re-learning each other mouths and remembering every feeling and sensation it causes. They share sweet kisses and little touches and a few words, Ryan’s shaky hands caressing Brendon’s face and hair over and over again, looking at him like he’s the only thing he wants to be watching for the rest of his life and, for the first time since Brendon woke up, seeing him watching him back the same way.

 

*

 

“I want to remember,” Brendon whispers that night, both lying under the covers of the hospital bed, cuddled together with Brendon lying on his back so his leg can rest, and Ryan sideways looking at him. “I want to remember, Ryan, make me remember…” he is looking at him with this dark, intense stare Ryan knows very well, and he can taste the need and want when Brendon kisses him.

He does. Because he wants him to remember, too. He touches him softly and slowly, getting rid of the hospital gown and feeling his skin everywhere, kissing him as he feels the goosebumps on his skin, the heat he radiates, the soft gasps he lets out with every touch of Ryan’s hand. He touches him until Brendon’s so impatient he can’t wait anymore, grabbing him then where he’s hard and hot, stroking with his hand up and down all over his length and doing everything he knows to drive Brendon crazy, because this is the first time he’s going to remember now, and he wants it to be as good as it can.

Brendon doesn’t take long before he’s touching Ryan, too, and he smiles at that because Brendon never liked being just on the receiving end, always needing to give. He grips Ryan’s dick and jerks him off too, rubbing with his thumb and making his grip tight and hot and perfect, Ryan’s eyelids fluttering and his mouth opening as he lets out soft noises of pleasure. He feels it everywhere, the sensation more intense than ever, the air damp and hot under the covers, both of them breathing harsh in the same space.

Ryan kisses Brendon on the lips, his jaw and neck. He moves to kiss his chest too and touches him lower, caressing his balls and rubbing his perineum, going back to his cock and looking mesmerized every one of Brendon’s gasps and moans until he feels him tense, tremble and come all over his hand, breathing with his mouth open and his eyes fixed on him, whispering his name when he’s done and moving his hand just the few strokes Ryan needs to follow him through the edge, groaning and kissing him while he comes, feeling Brendon’s sweat damp against his skin and shaking with the sensation.

They fall asleep covered to the neck and naked, and Ryan really hopes no one walks in tomorrow and try to take the sheets off, because that’s not going to be pretty. He says so to Brendon and they both laugh for a while, and Brendon’s fresh, genuine laugh is the last thing Ryan hears before he falls asleep. He does with a smile on his face.

 

*

 

The doctors set Brendon free a few days later, even though he has to come back soon so they can remove the plaster cast, and keep going back to the hospital every two weeks to keep running some tests. Also, he has to take the meds for a while, now adding ones for his attention problems, too, along several activities and games to train it. This may improve it, they say, but it’s not going to be the same as before. They recommend some treatment for PTSD too and Brendon has to visit a specialist because of the consequences on his executive functions.

All in all, it’s not that bad. He might need some help on daily basis with some things, but mostly he’ll be able to live a normal life, and doctors say that’s saying a lot, considering the severity of the injury. Ryan knows it’s going to be hard for them, harder for Brendon, because he will need help with things he always did alone before, but Ryan feels lucky anyway as he walks out of the hospital pushing Brendon’s wheelchair, because he looks back to those days when he didn’t even know if he was gonna wake up and he wouldn’t change this for that.

“I can’t remember what we’ve shared here,” Brendon says when they are back, lying on the couch with the dogs snuggled around them. “But it feels like home.”

Ryan smiles and kisses him softly, breathing deep and telling himself that this is real, the nightmare has ended and everything is good.

He has his Brendon back now, and maybe he can’t remember anything about them the past three years, they don’t know if he ever will, but they have the rest of their lives for Ryan to tell him over and over again. And, now that he knows how fast everything can end, he is sure about something: for now on, he’s going to make every fucking day memorable.


End file.
